


Remind Me I'm Alive

by reluctantOracle



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Teenagers, Trans Rick Sanchez
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reluctantOracle/pseuds/reluctantOracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Sanchez has some issues. Seriously. So when his best friend and partner in crime catch him about to do something stupid, he's either got to stand up and face his demons, or let them consume him completely. </p>
<p>Stan Pines, it seems, has it all. He's invited to all the parties, he gets the answers to every test. But under the surface he's crumbling, and it takes a very sharp awakening for him to realise that recovery is more than a winning smile and a handful of pills. </p>
<p>Stanchez College AU. Poor, fucked up boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rick Sanchez is a Fucked Up Dude

**Author's Note:**

> Look @ this cliche nonsense oh my god i hate myself what the fuck
> 
> Enjoy, though. Nothing better than seeing ur faves broken and bleeding, amirite guys 
> 
> Oh, and this probs goes without saying but trigger warning for self harm, suicide, drug/alcohol use and sex. just in case :D

Rick slid down the bathroom wall and closed his eyes, fighting even more tears. ‘Fucking hell, Sanchez,’ he thought to himself, ‘how fucking cliché can you get? Pathetic.’ 

The blood dripped down his arms slowly, leaving delicious red trails on his dark skin. He looked like a corpse, he knew that. A disgusting, sleep-deprived corpse with a drinking problem. It was a wonder no one else had realised how much of a mess he was yet. Proof that no one really gave a shit, he supposed. Not that he could blame them. If he met Rick Sanchez, he’d probably hate him too. 

He opened his eyes. The blade was still between his fingers, poised over a small patch of clean skin on his forearm. There was a half empty bottle of whiskey beside his feet.

He wasn’t 100% sure how he’d got there, but he knew it had probably been a long time coming. The pressure had built up inside him, slowly eating away at his patience and focus until he’d- presumably- snapped and gone all out. 

He had to admit, as much as it filled him with disgust to see the leaking, gaping wounds all over his arms, he did feel better. Lighter, almost. Might as well hurt something that deserved it, rather than something else. He’d do that too, though. He always did. He was a destructive piece of shit and he didn’t care what happened to him, because he would deserve it all. In fact…

He positioned the blade so it was hovering directly over his vein. Did he dare? It would certainly make the world a better place. What was the point in prolonging the inevitable? No one needed Rick Sanchez. He only made people unhappy, or uncomfortable. Most of all himself. He’d made so many mistakes, so many fuckups. Why shouldn’t he save the world the bother and just get it over with already?

He felt the metal bite into his flesh and hissed softly. It wasn’t deep enough, not yet, but it would be so easy. Right now, to end it all. 

The moment seemed to last forever; Rick, eyes wide, staring down at his wrist with a strange kind of excitement. The only sound was the drip, drip, drip of red on the tiles. The universe seemed to be watching, waiting to see his decision. 

He glanced beside him. The bottle was now somehow empty. When had that happened? He needed something else. His last drink before he checked out. He took away the blade, almost disappointed at the lack of obvious scar. ‘Wait for it, Sanchez. Just you wait.’

Not bothering to wash his arms, Rick unlocked the door and made his way to the kitchen, feeling shockingly woozy with blood loss and inebriation. He staggered a few steps, using the cupboard handles for support, and found the alcohol cabinet. It was mostly cheap, bought for the strength rather than taste. But right at the back was a large bottle of expensive whiskey. He’d been saving it for a special occasion and hell, if this didn’t count, he didn’t know what did.

Sitting down at the table, he decided that the bathroom was too far to travel and he might as well just stay in the kitchen. It would be easier for them to find him that way. Hey, he was already becoming more considerate. 

Rick closed his eyes and let the liquor wash down his throat. Fuck, it was good. It was so smooth, so rich. He’d made the right decision, drinking this. He was going to finish as much as he could, and then get the job done before he passed out. That sounded like a fantastic plan. Foolproof. 

“Rick? What the fuck have you done?”

 

Rick choked loudly, dropping the bottle and sending it crashing to the floor. His eyes struggled to focus on the figure in the doorway, but his brain managed to figure out that it was Stan who was staring at him, obviously horrified. Stanley Pines. School superstar, Mr Popular. Also known as His Best Friend. Oh, shit.   
He blinked at him, caught off guard. “That was. That was expensive whiskey.” He said, voice hoarse. 

Stan dropped the bags he had been holding and almost ran to the table, immediately lifting up one of Rick’s arms and examining it. His voice was panicked as he asked, “How long has this been going on?” 

Rick shrugged. “It’s no biggie, Pines.”  
“No biggie?” He almost shouted incredulously, “Rick, how long has this been going on?”  
“I don’t know! A long time, okay? Chill out.” He answered moodily.  
“How can you… How can you say that? How can you tell me to chill out when you’re…” Stan sounded near tears. Rick frowned, trying to think through the alcohol haze. “Why do you care so much?” he asked.  
Stan stared at him for a moment, mouth open. “Why? Rick, I’m your… friend. Of course I care about you!”

“That makes one of us.” 

Stan began to rifle through the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers until he found what he was looking for. Then, he took some paper towels and ran them under the tap quickly. He sat down opposite Rick and took his arm again gently. He set down the first aid kit beside them. Slowly, softly, he began to wipe the blood away, dabbing at each cut and making sure the flow had slowed as much as possible before moving on. He got through almost half a roll of kitchen paper before picking up the bandages and wrapping up the first arm. Then, he repeated on the other arm. He did all this in silence, working intently. Rick didn’t speak either, only watched, occasionally hissing in pain as pressure was applied to fresh wounds. He glanced into the hallway, where Stan had dropped the bags. He squinted, trying to work out the contents. Something rectangular, and also something larger, and lumpy. Curse the terrible lighting in his apartment.

When he was done, Stan sat back and stared at Rick. The intensity of the gaze made him nervous, and he shifted in his seat. “What do you want me to say, Stan? That I’m sorry?”   
“No! Yes! I don’t know!” Stan squeezed his eyes shut, “I just want to know why.”  
“I don’t know why, it just… makes me feel better.” He didn’t see any point in lying. Not anymore. “Its like this pressure, and I just need to… I just need to do it.”   
“How could… this make you feel better?” he asked.  
“I don’t expect you to understand. I’m messed up, and I know that. I have a lot of shit going on, and I don’t know how else to deal with it.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stan’s voice was small, guilty. “Fuck, if I had just been a better friend…”  
This time, it was Rick’s turn to grab Stan’s arms. “Hey, listen. I may be a colossal self-destructive piece of shit, but that’s my problem. This hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

His eyes are wide and scared, “then why didn’t you say anything?”   
“I don’t… I didn’t want to be your burden. You have your own issues, I didn’t want to drive you away with all my bullshit.”   
“You would never have…”  
Rick cut him off. “Listen, there’s no point. I have some fucked up perception of myself, and that means I don’t tell people about my emotional shit. Not like you’re exactly open about this stuff either.” 

Stan gaped for a while. “Yeah, but…” he trailed off, words failing him. “I wish I’d been a better friend to you, Rick.”

“Me too.”

 

They sat there for a long time, fingers still intertwined. Eventually, Stan looked up. “I, uh, I brought a movie. And popcorn. I thought you seemed down today so I came to cheer you up.”   
Rick felt something flicker in his chest. Maybe Stan really did care about him. “What movie?”   
“I was gonna bring Weird Science, but I thought it might give you ideas,” he joked, “So I have Scream. That okay with you?”  
“Cheesy slasher some refer to as the death of horror? Count me in.” 

They stood up and headed to the living room, still holding hands. Rick didn’t really feel like letting go. And by the expression on his face, Stan didn’t really want to either. Rick slid the DVD into the player and they sat down, almost curled up together. Rick leant his head on Stan’s shoulder. He found his eyes wandering over to the bathroom, where he’d almost… 

“Thank you, Stan.” He murmured. “Thanks for reminding me what’s good about being alive.”   
Stan wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. “Anytime.”


	2. Rick Sanchez Is Gay For Stan Pines And Doesnt Even Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick wakes up to very little memory of the night before. He knows he fucked up, bad. He knows Stan was there- at least he does when he finds his friend in the shower. 
> 
> School is shitty as ever, especially with Stan's brother flaunting his intelligence everywhere he goes. Rick wants to take him down a few pegs. For Stan, of course. Not because watching the guy crumble would be tremendously enjoyable. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Sorry its been so long, i've had stuff to do. this is kinda just a buildup chapter to the Shit That Goes Down later on. Enjoy!!

Rick woke up with a throbbing headache. He sat upright blearily, trying to get his bearings as the room spun wildly around him. Where was he? Not his bedroom, it was too brightly lit. TV in the corner. Ugly wallpaper. Lumpy couch. Okay, he was in his own living room, at least. Nothing was worse than waking up in some stranger’s apartment with no memory of the night before. 

Speaking of the night before… What happened? He hadn’t woken up with a headache like this since he’d bet that he could make the worlds strongest alcoholic drink using what they had in the science labs at school, and then chugged the stuff. His eyes drifted to the kitchen. Smashed glass had been swept into a pile by the trashcan, an an open first aid kit sat on the table. 

Shit. Must have been a rough night, again. Ah well, he was alive. That was something. He got to his feet and staggered a few steps forward, scooping up another open bottle as he made his way around the kitchen. Taking a swig absently, he surveyed his apartment. It was tiny, and there was mould growing in the corners, but what could you expect? He was a teenager, not strictly supposed to be living alone. He could only afford it through a network of side businesses he’d prefer not to talk about. It may be a shithole, but it was his, and his alone. 

 

Rick suddenly became very aware of the sound of the shower running. He frowned. Had he brought anyone back here last night? He couldn’t remember. Oh, fuck. No one stayed until morning- what if they expected him to take them out for breakfast or something? He’d have to make up an excuse. Amnesia, allergies, a landlord visit. Anything. The running water sputtered to a halt and he briefly considered hiding. He must have been really drunk if he hadn’t kicked them out after they’d fucked. 

“Jesus fuck, Rick. Your shower sucks.”  
Oh, thank god. It was Stan. He hadn’t had sex with Stan, that he could be sure of. He yanked open some cupboards until he found something that could be considered breakfast (stale pop-tarts count, right?) and returned to the living room as a gracious host. “Tell me about it. What did you get today, ‘melt your skin off’ or ‘I can’t feel my dick’?”  
Stan didn’t answer. He was in a towel, which was distracting enough, but his face twisted into something almost like disgust. Rick blinked. “What?” 

“You’re drinking.” Stan said. His voice was low, but he’d never been that good at hiding his emotions. “You’re drinking. Again. Rick, we have school today.”  
“Hence the drinking,” He replied, deliberately taking a slow gulp. Stan’s jaw twitched. “Rick, do you remember anything about last night? At all?”  
Rick, unlike his friend, was a fantastic liar. “Nothing at all.” He said smoothly, “Although I think I remember popcorn? There was probably popcorn.” 

Stan ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed. “Never mind. Get dressed, okay? My brother is getting some award today and I have to be there.”  
“Ah yes. Stanford Pines, the scientist of the future. You know I run rings around that guy, right? He ain’t all that.”  
“Hey, my brother is a good guy. Might as well be one Pines in the family to actually do something with their life.” Stan smiled, but his eyes betrayed the slight bitterness he so obviously felt. Rick clambered over the couch and laid a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “Stan, your brother being a nerd doesn’t mean you have to rot here forever. He’s smart; I’ll give him that. Not as smart as me, but… anyway, you’re gonna go on and do things with your life, and don’t let him convince you different.”  
Stan smiled again. “Thanks, Rick. That’s probably the shittiest life advice anyone has ever given me.”  
“Yeah, that’s as sincere as I’m ever getting, so be grateful. I don’t do that for a lotta people.”  
“I’m honoured.” 

Rick turned away, frowning at himself. That was weird. His hatred of Ford had actually turned into something… positive? He didn’t like it. At another prompt from Stan, he lifted his shirt and made his way to the bathroom. Maybe showering would wash away his newfound supportive attitude. 

His friend coughed awkwardly behind him. “Rick? I’m still here. I don’t know if you want me to see you like…”  
“Then stop staring at my boobs, pervert.” He replied, rolling his eyes. Cis people. He heard Stan laugh, and then he shut the door and was alone again. 

 

The ride to school was somewhat awkward. Stan had insisted on driving, even though Rick had argued that half his moneymaking was from the back of his own car. “You’ve been drinking all morning,” Stan said firmly, “get in the car.” 

“You’d understand if you had loyal customers like I do.” He said after a few minutes of driving in silence, “I have a reputation of reliability to uphold.”  
“I’m fairly sure no one expects drug dealers to be reliable.”  
“That’s what sets me apart from my competitors! That, and my shit is the best. But think of the junkies, Stan! They come to school, safe in the knowledge that Rick Sanchez will be there to provide! What will they think when they see my car, notable in its absence? That I have abandoned them. In their time of greatest need.”  
Stan glanced at him for a moment. “You are so dramatic.”  
“I like to think of myself as a passionate entrepreneur.” 

Stan flicked on the radio, shaking his head. 

 

They’d been in the parking lot for about six seconds, and Ford was upon them. “There you are Stanley!” he cried, almost throwing himself at the vehicle. Rick groaned loudly, and Stan hit him. “Hey, Ford. What’s up?”  
“What’s up? You know what’s up! I’m receiving a very prestigious award today and I expected you to be here with me to help me prepare! Where were you?” 

Before Stan could open his mouth to respond, Rick leant out of the car window. “He was busy with his own life, _Ford_. I’m pretty sure you can go and get a stupid trophy without making your brother feel like shit about it.” 

Ford seemed to puff himself up. “I- Rick Sanchez! I wasn’t aware you and my brother were… friends. Now I know why he’s been coming home late, or not at all.”  
“Yeah, yeah. I’m a bad influence on your fragile, impressionable sibling. Why don’t you go jerk off to the teachers notes on your homework?” 

Ford went very red, and looked as though he was about to say something else. Stan got hastily out of the car. “Rick!” he said, shooting him a look. “I’ll see you later, okay? I gotta help Ford with some stuff.”  
Rick rolled his eyes. “Later, asshole.” 

He watched the brothers walk away and sighed. Their looks were so wasted. One was a pretentious dick, and the other… Well, the other was as straight as they came. It was such a shame. He noticed a kid wandering around the parking lot, looking confused. Cursing Stan, he set off towards them, unzipping a small pocket inside his jacket. 

What could he say? He always came prepared. 

 

The school was, as expected, making a huge deal out of this award. Ford hadn’t won it yet, but everyone knew it was as good as his. The staff practically worshipped him. Rick thought it was only a matter of time before they erected some kind of statue of him, right in the middle of the hallway. He’d get a kick out of that- the pompous, arrogant… 

“Rick! Hey, Rick? You with me?”  
Rick shook himself out of his daze, blinking. Mrs Black stood before him, short and chubby and smiley. He didn’t like her. She was one of those teachers who thought she could relate to her students by pretending to be friends with them. She oozed positivity and it made him sick. 

He threw up his hands. “I did the damn homework, okay? I don’t know why- I could rearrange formula before I could walk. It’s bullshit.”  
She frowned at him for his language, but after a moment her face broke into an unrelenting smile. “This isn’t about your homework! And I know it can be frustrating, seeing that you’re such an advanced student. I did suggest that you join Ford in his extracurriculars, but you told me you didn’t want to. You told me very… colourfully.” 

Rick frowned suspiciously. “Then what do you want?”  
“I want to know if you’re ready!”  
“Ready for what?” he asked blankly.  
She shot him a horrified look. “Oh, Rick! You didn’t forget, did you? I don’t know why no one’s been talking about it- I read your paper on theoretical physics, remember? And I said it was one of the most insightful things I’ve ever read?”  
He remembered. He had written it because Stan was complaining about Ford and how he never shut up about his stupid science reports, and he’d wanted to take him down a few pegs.

When Rick still looked clueless, she continued. “You should have got my letter about it! I insisted you be considered for the award, along with Stanford!”  
“I thought I told you people that I didn’t give a shit about your awards.”  
She bit her lip, “Oh, you did. I know you did, but I think every student should have a chance to show off their talents. You’re smart, Rick.”  
He snorted. Yeah, he knew.  
“You’re smart and you deserve to know it.”  
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her. Why did every teacher think he needed to prove his ‘potential’? 

Almost as if she hadn’t noticed his scepticism, Mrs Black carried on. “So I asked for you to be considered! It was short notice, so I’m not sure if anyone really knows yet. It’ll be a nice surprise for everyone to know we have two budding scientists here in school!”

Rick’s eyebrows twitched. “So Ford thinks he’s the only entry?” he said slowly.  
“Yes, I’m not sure why the school haven’t mentioned it to him at least. It isn’t fair on either of you, I mean you didn’t even know you had a chance!” 

“Yeah,” Rick said, face cracking into a grin, “That’s such a shame.”


	3. Rick Sanchez is a Pretentious Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has been entered into a science competition he knows he'll win. It's for his best friend Stan, of course, who is so often overshadowed by his brother. He definitely doesn't want to beat Ford for any /other/ reason. That'd be so terribly selfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha...ha.... It is I, back after months with a chapter for a fic I promised myself I'd update regularly...... Oops
> 
> Anyway please don't hate me and I hope you enjoy!!

Stan met Rick at the back of the assembly hall. It was cold and grey, and the other students had already huddled inside. After declining a cigarette with a short shake of his head, he leant against the wall and sighed. Rick frowned. “You’re acting weird.”  
“You’ve been looking at me for five seconds.”  
“That’s long enough.” He replied with a shrug. Stan bit his lip at the sight of grey smoke curling into the air, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Ford doesn’t like… he’d smell it.”  
Rick made a small grunt of understanding. “So he has this in the bag, huh?” he asked, changing the subject to something that wasn’t Stanley’s bizarre co-dependency with his twin. Stan nodded. “Obviously. Who else is gonna run against him?”  
Rick held his tongue. 

“He’s already planned a speech, you know.” Stan continued, “something about how ‘through science we can conquer the world’. I’m proud of him.”  
“That sounds terrible” Rick replied drily. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than sitting in a hall and listening to Stanford drone on about his own academic achievements.  
“Hey! My brother is a great guy, and the smartest person I know- apart from you, of course.”  
“Good save.”  
“He deserves it, too. No one works harder than my brother. Especially not you.”  
Rick nodded. “Now that I agree with. Not everyone can have my natural genius.”  
He regarded Stan through the corner of his eye. He was biting his lip, shifting uncomfortably. 

“You cold?” he asked. Stan shook his head.  
“I don’t know why he wanted me there,” he began. He looked like he was considering shutting up, but couldn’t quite manage it. “He was talking to these science assholes whilst he was getting ready- about his project, and his future. It was like I was background noise. Just nodding and smiling.” His voice turned bitter as he put on a mocking voice. “Oh, don’t worry Stan! It’s very complex, don’t beat yourself up for not understanding.”  
Rick shook his head. That sounded just like Stanford to him.  
“I just slipped out whilst he was getting water, I couldn’t handle it. I don’t really want to go back in there.” He thought about something for a second, and then his eyes lit up. “Want to go up to the roof and get high? Like old times?” 

Crushing his cigarette under his foot, Rick folded his arms. Tempting, tempting. But… he had something better. “Well, maybe he’ll surprise you.” He said cryptically. “When you get in there, I mean. I guess it’s pretty important.”  
Stan frowned. “Wait, what? Since when are you not up for skipping?”  
“I’m just saying, he obviously wants you there for a reason. He did ask specifically.” 

He had to get Stan in there. What better way to cheer him up than watching his brother fall off his fucking high horse? He began to pull Stan by the arm, intending to sneak through the back way to avoid attention. Stan pulled himself away easily; he had about three sizes on his skinny friend. “Rick, you’re acting weird.” He said. Rick batted his eyes innocently.  
“You said you wanted to be there for your brother. I’m just helping you do that, as your best friend.” 

Stan narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but let himself be led forward through the back door of the auditorium. They slipped in without anyone really noticing- save for Mrs Black, who waved at Rick frantically. He nodded slightly in reply, ignoring Stan’s inquiring glance. They took their seats at the very back, hidden by shadow. Ford was sat on the stage beside the principal and an important looking man. On the man’s left side there was an empty chair. Stan nodded to it. “Why d’you reckon that’s there?” he asked. Rick shrugged and, glancing at the crowd, wished he hadn’t thrown away his cigarette so quickly. Was he expected to sit in front of these people and let them gawk at him? Shake the principal’s hand and smile like he didn’t hate the entire fucking system? Maybe he should leave, quickly and quietly. Stan’s suggestion of drugs on the roof was starting to look more and more attractive.

But then he glanced at his friend, and felt his heart sink. Stan was staring straight ahead, unblinking. He was proud of his brother, that much was clear. But there was bitterness too. He had to kick Stanford’s ass. Metaphorically, of course. For selfless reasons, of course. He had to throw Stan’s brother to the dirt and laugh for friendship. 

The buzz of conversation began to die down as the principal stood up, straightening his tie. Rick rolled his eyes at the charade. He looked so important up there, like he was running Harvard and not a small town school with enough high achievers to count on one hand. Ford was his golden ticket, it was obvious. The one student he could show off proudly to the real schools, the one kid destined for a shining career at the forefront of scientific discovery. 

The two of them up on the stage looked about ready to burst with pride. The principal coughed for attention once more, and Stanley threw Rick a look. _‘You’re seriously making us sit through this?’_

“Today we gather to celebrate some of the core values of this school. Dedication. Perseverance. A thirst for knowledge that can drive each and every one of you to success. Today we hand out the Young Scientist Award to a student who has truly pushed the boundaries of the curriculum in order to fulfil themselves and reach their potential…”

Rick shifted in his seat. “Second thoughts, we should bail. This is painful.”  
Stan shook his head and nodded to the stage. “Nah, we can’t now,” he said apologetically, “Ford just saw me.”  
Glancing upward, Rick saw Ford narrow his eyes slightly at the sight of him. “Shit,” he raised his eyebrows, “You brother _really_ doesn’t like me.”  
“Absolutely not.”  
“Can’t you make some excuse? Mr Sports Star has to practice his… whatever he plays. Something with a ball.”  
Stan laughed. “Don’t act all high and mighty, you’ve been to almost every game I’ve played!”  
“Correction, I’ve been in your locker room after every game you’ve played. I’m a simple man, I like sweaty muscled men and I like it when they shower.”  
“You’re a sick man, Sanchez.”  
His eyebrows twitched. “Guilty as charged.” 

They’d tuned out of the monotonous droning that made up the principal’s speech (that seemed more about detailing his own achievements when he was a boy, rather than the achievements of the school) but eventually they drifted once again into silence, and the award was set down on the podium. It was the tacky shine of cheap metal, and moulded in the shape of a test tube rack. Rick snorted at the sight of it. “Your brother looks like he’s about to piss himself for that piece of junk?” he hissed.  
Stan shrugged. “I think he’s gonna get some other stuff too. Access to the labs after school, some free equipment.”  
Rick straightened up. “He’s getting free stuff? As in, shit for a lab?”  
“Yeah. It’s all he really wanted, since we don’t have that stuff at home. I mean, he has his ‘kids chemistry set’ or whatever, but proper stuff is really expensive.”  
“Yeah, I can imagine,” Rick said dismissively, suddenly alert. 

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” The principal began. A collective sigh rang out through the hall- not even the students who cared had wanted to spend 45 minutes listening to the childhood achievements of a man they didn’t care about. “I will now reveal the winner of the prestigious Young Scientist Award.” 

Stan nudged Rick, frowning. “Hey, what are you so interested in all of a sudden? I’m not stealing my brother’s equipment so you can make drugs, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“The student is…” He peeled back the envelope, agonisingly slowly. 

A grin couldn’t keep itself from Rick’s face. Eyes bright, he turned to his friend and said, smugly, “Don’t worry. You won’t have to.” 

Ignoring Stan’s questions, he leant forward eagerly and watched as the principal’s eyes widened. The school descended into an awkward silence as he gaped at the piece of paper for a moment, as though the words had caught in his throat. Ford sat up slightly, frowning, straining to see the name on the paper. Finally, almost choking, the name was read aloud. 

“Rick Sanchez. The winner is Rick Sanchez.” 

 

Silence, save for a whooped cheer from Mrs Black in the corner of the room. Stan stared uncomprehendingly at his friend, who shrugged. Rick got to his feet and picked his way through his classmates, each in their own individual state of disbelief, and climbed the steps to the podium. The stage creaked loudly as he stepped onto it, and Rick felt his heart stammer in his chest. He really needed another cigarette, or something stronger. To calm his nerves. He slid a glance to Ford, who remained seated, rooted to the spot. He was pale, rigid, eyes fixed on someone in the crowd. Stan. He couldn’t blame Stan for this, could he? No, that’d have to be a real stretch. 

Shaking himself slightly, Rick slouched over the podium and leant in close to the microphone. “I’m sure this comes as a… real surprise to some of you.” He drawled, relishing in the tension he saw on the principal’s face. “So let me assure you…” he paused for effect, “The least surprised person is me.” 

There was a snort of laughter from a few people in the audience, and a small huff of indignation from the man beside him. More confident now, he stood up straighter, picking up the award in one hand. “If there is a science award to be given to a student at this school, you bet your ass- sorry, sir, _butthole_ \- that it has my name on it. Some of you try, and I appreciate that. But it might be a wise idea to just accept that some people are born good. And that some people? Is me. Thanks for this award; I expect the free shit- stuff! Damn, I’m real sorry- at the end of the day.” 

Red in the face, sweating, the principal snatched back the microphone. “Thank you, Rick. Lets have a round of applause for this wonderful young… student.”  
Rick tensed. With an artificial smile, he shook the sweaty hand and leant in close. “Young man will suffice.” 

He leapt off the stage, ignoring the steps. Ford was still sat perfectly still on the stage, and Rick briefly wondered if they were going to have to call someone to move him. He accepted the few congratulatory slaps (mostly from customers, but he’d take it) and thudded back down next to Stan, who still stared at him dumbly. “Hey, big guy. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Aren’t you gonna congratulate your Young Scientist buddy?” 

They began to file out, the principal apparently all out of things to say. Rick saw him speaking tersely to Mrs Black, and hoped she wouldn’t be in trouble. She wasn’t bad, for a teacher. He craned his neck to try and see whether Ford had been tipped onto a stretcher, but suddenly found himself dragged sideways by his shirt. With a yelp, he twisted frantically but was slammed into the wall and pinned there. Stan leant in close, furious. “What the fuck was that all about?”


	4. Trouble in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's plan to make Stan feel better doesn't quite go as expected, and he has to deal with the repercussions of his actions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is pretty short and v dialogue heavy and im sorry for that, i just wanted to set the scene for some v bad choices that r about to go down for our problematic protagonist!! sorry its been so long, i'd come up with an excuse but the honest reason is i have depression. thanks if ur reading this, i'll try my best to pick it back up!!

‘What the fuck, Stan?’ Rick struggled in vain against the arm pressed against his chest, fully aware that his friend was about three times his size. Stan’s eyes were narrow, furious. ‘Did you know about this?’ he asked. ‘Did you know?’

‘Not until this morning, I swear!’ Rick’s voice rose as the grip on him tightened. He’d been threatened before, but Stan was an intimidating figure when angry. ‘I swear to you, I was only told I was nominated this morning!’  
‘Why didn’t you say anything? Was this your idea of a cruel joke?’ Stan hissed in reply.  
‘Well… yeah!’ Rick blurted, trying to shrug. ‘Your brother’s an asshole, I thought you’d thank me for knocking him down a few pegs!’ 

‘Thank you?’ Stan repeated incredulously, ‘that’s my brother! Do you have any idea how humiliated he must be right now? How much this meant to him?’  
‘Chill out, Stan. It was just a joke!’   
‘How can you say that? After you saw how excited he was about getting this thing?’  
‘It’s just some shitty science award, Stan, I’m sure he wont lose sleep over it!’   
A laugh burst from Stan’s throat, quick and humourless. He leant back, and as soon as he was given enough room to do so, Rick wriggled his way free. 

‘I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this.’ He said, dusting himself off. His elbows were grazed, but the sting was barely noticeable. ‘I thought you’d find it funny.’  
‘Funny? Why would I find my brother’s humiliation funny?’  
Rick felt frustration rising in his gut. You try to do something nice, and this is where it gets you? ‘You wanted to see him fail too, I know you did.’ He snapped, knowing the places that would hit Stan hardest. Sure enough, his friend went red and he gaped for a moment, struggling for words.

‘Of course I didn’t!’ he managed finally, ‘He’s my brother, and he deserved that award!’   
‘And I didn’t?’  
Stan rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you didn’t, everyone knows you couldn’t give less of a shit about stuff like this. Ford worked hard! I know you don’t have a clue what work is, but he wanted this so bad, and he worked for it!’   
Rick folded his arms defensively. ‘Hey, I worked for it too! I wrote a paper- which, by the way, was also because you were bummed about your self-obsessed brother.’ 

Stan groaned. ‘I can’t argue with you when you’re like this! I can’t believe you’re calling Ford self-obsessed, when you’re…’ he trailed off, gesturing wildly.   
‘When I’m what?’ Rick stepped forward, ‘what am I like, Stan?’  
‘When you’re you!’ Stan’s reply was followed by a growl of frustration. Rick’s eyes widened in mock surprise. ‘Wow, Stanley, very eloquent! I can see why you’re totally not threatened by your brother’s intelligence at all!’   
Stan clenched his fists. ‘Don’t take this out on me!’   
‘Take what out on you? You started this!’   
‘You started this when you chose to be a petty asshole!’   
‘You started it when you let your brother control you!’ 

If Stan’s face could have reddened any further, it would have. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’   
Rick rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Stan. He’s got you on a fucking leash.’ He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He put a cigarette between his lips and made a quick mental note to buy some filters later- straights were never his style. He continued, matter-of-factly, ‘He makes you feel bad for not being as smart as him, even though he knows he’s smarter than almost everyone in this dump. He’s got you thinking you’ll amount to nothing, compared to him. He makes you want to please him so maybe you’ll gain some equal footing but guess what? You won’t. You won’t, because that’s the sick game he’s playing with you. Some kind of superiority complex. Pretty sad, of you ask me.’  
He would have continued, but he saw the punch coming from a mile off and ducked to dodge it. ‘Feel better?’   
‘Fuck you, Rick.’ Stan growled, ‘You don’t know shit about me and my brother.’   
‘Don’t I? Seems like I know more than you. Does he even know you smoke?’ 

Stan closed his eyes, and Rick could tell he was trying to refrain from hurling another punch his way. ‘That’s different.’  
‘Ugh, please. He’s meant to be your brother, not your babysitter. It’s just how he sees himself, and how he’s bullshitted you into seeing him too.’ 

Stan let out a breath and turned away. ‘I can’t talk to you like this, man.’ He said, struggling to keep the anger from his voice, ‘I thought you understood.’  
‘Seems like I understand a little too well.’ Came the sharp reply. Stan shook his head. Rick kept his eyes trained on the ground. He hadn’t expected the guy to start walking off. The big baby. He’d just been trying to help, and that wasn’t exactly a thing he liked to make a habit out of. All he’d wanted to do was see Stan happy- 

Stan turned to look at him for a moment, and Rick’s heart quickened. 

‘Every time I fool myself into thinking you give a shit,’ Stan began, shaking his head again, ‘you find some way to slap me out of it.’   
Rick clenched his jaw, and pushed down the hurt that was threatening to spill out of him. He blew a cloud of smoke in Stan’s direction, wishing it would cover him completely so he wouldn’t have to see the betrayed look on his face. ‘You should learn to read the signs, asshole.’

**Author's Note:**

> wooaah look @ this edgy shit!! woaahhh!! 
> 
> the alternate title of this work is 'I Project My Feelings Onto Fictional Characters So I Don't Have To Face Them'
> 
> leave a review, if ya like. hope you enjoyed, i'll probs be continuing this?? maybe?? if its good enough?? idk


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